It Never Snowed Until Now
by Ethereal Darkness
Summary: NEWLY ADDED CHAPTER! Sorry for the delay, Authors note 1 and ch. 2 up. RR please.
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1: Steel Blades and Sorrowful Eyes

A/N: In this story _Kim_ finds Edward and a couple of things are changed about him like his hands---oops cant tell you! XD oh well ur gonna just have to read to find out about his hands! . Also the mother is different, there is no little brother, and her father isn't around. Kim's friends are still jerks and she does not have a boyfriend. The guy who was her boyfriend is now just a jealous friend who secretly likes her. Yes he still is psychotic in the end. Well, Enjoy!

It was a cold, cold night, and Kim could not sleep. She rolled over and drifted into a momentary dream.

_Pitch black, and then a glint of light on steel blades. She tried not to panic, but could not help herself. Suddenly, a glowing butterfly landed on the shining blades, and whatever was holding the blades lifted them to its face. The glow of the butterfly illuminated its--or his face, and what she saw was a pale, slender, scarred face and haunting, sorrowful eyes._

Kim awakened with a start and sat bolt upright. She heaved a sigh of relief when she realized it was only a dream. But something about it seemed almost real...like she had

seen the face somewhere. She shuddered partly at the thought and partly because the room seemed freezing all of a sudden. She knew it was because it was winter. She wrapped herself in her robe and walked to the window. It should have been snowing, but all she saw was a brittle sheet of frost on the grass, glistening underneath the partly cloudy sky of stars. The moon eminated with an eerie glow as part of a charcoal tinted cloud covered where a mouth would have been if the moon were a person's face. And then she noticed something that had irritated her, _called_ to her for all 17 years she had lived in the sleepy little neighborhood.

It seemed all that since she was 10, her soul and mind visited this place of mystery without her body knowing it. It was the sillouhette of the castle on the hill. Its towering citadels towered to the sky. Its stained glass windows, giant and empty, seemed almost like eyes, watching her; waiting and beckoning.

Now, as happy as her family was, her mother was secretly an alcaholic and her father worked all hours. Even at 11:38PM, her mom sat at the kitchen table, glossy-eyed and beat red face completely visible. And always she waited like a hawk to catch anything bold enough to slink into her range of view and torment it to the point of exhaustion. This night she was particularly plastered to the point of violence and hate.

Kim got dressed into a pair of black jeans and a sparkling white sweater with rhinestones on it, and slipped on her glittery white Reeboks. She brushed her hair and braided two thick strands in the front, then brought them both to the back of her head. She pinned them there and let them hang loosely with her long golden tresses. She then grabbed her white, long, fur lined coat and slipped out of her bedroom quietly, unaware of what was yet to come.

She reached the kitchen, and here, in the dim glow of the lamp, a voice boomed, "And where r' _YOU _goin'?" She knew that line quite well, and the stench of alcahol along with it. It was her mother, sitting silently in the corner of the room, a small table lamp only lighting half of her face. It was sunken and red, and her eyes seemed almost frost-bittenly glazed over. But underneath her long eyelashes came a look of hatred and intent.

"I-it's hot in here, so I t-thought I would go for a walk," Kim stuttered. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, reminding her of the chaos that was about to ensue.

"Why you rotten little bitch!!!" her mom screeched, and stormed over to her shrieking, " How dare you lie to your own mother like you own the place or somn'!!!" And with that she smacked kim to the ground. By then, tears poured down Kim's hand-printed face, and fine wisps of hair clung to the wet streams.

"I-I'm sorry!!!" She shrieked, but it wasn't good enough. Her mom lifted her by the back of the neck and began beating her to the ground. Kim was bloody now and she began pulling her body to the door inch by inch across the floral tile.

Her mother took a seat in the corner once again, toxicated sweat pouring from her face and forehead in rivulets, and took a drag from her cigarette. Deep purple bags clung to the bottom of her blood-shot eyes. Now came the verbal abuse. "Go then, you bloody little mutt. I wish I never had you. It was your damned father who wanted you, not I! I should jus' kill you off now nice and slow, and watch you suffer like the bloody lil' bastard you are..." Her mother said, her english accent now becoming more evident in her voice.

Kim had gotten to her hands and knees, and somehow finally to her feet, and limped out the door. 'I'm never going to come back,' she thought to herself, 'Just to get my clothing, but after that, I'll never have to see her damned face again.' As soon as she was about 10 yards or so from the house she whirled around and in the loud, American voice she had recieved from her father, shouted, _"I HOPE YOU ROT IN **HELL**!!!!"_

Boy, was she ever glad to leave her house. She decided that she would not go back to that place. The place that no one acknowledged her, and when they did, it was to beat her or tell her to do something with her life and that she was a loser. She also decided she would sneak around her house to her bedroom window and grab the stuff she needed.

She snuck around to her room window, but it was latched shut. She knew just how to fix that. She searched around in her sweater pocket and found a pocket knife. She dug the pocket knife into the center crack between the two glass door-like windows, and pulled the knife upward toward the top. When she head a little click she knew that she had unlatched the little metal hook from its loop. She pulled open the doors and climbed quietly into her room.

She pulled a giant pack out from her closet and began stuffing it with her clothes. Once she had all of her clothes in, she grabbed her tooth and hair brush, some toothe paste, other bathroom products and her makeup. She then grabbed her cd player and all of her CDs (which was like 10 burned cds and 5 real ones) and 2 other pairs of shoes and stuffed them in. Her pack was getting quite full. She grabbed her cellphone and stuck it in her pocket and then grabbed whatever food she could find in her room and stuffed it in her bag.

She then with great effort, struggled silently back out of her window and relatched it with her knife. "Goodbye, you worthless trash house." she said as she turned and began to leave.

Suddenly, a thought struck her and she stopped abruptly. Where was she going to go? She then remembered why she had come out in the first place. She looked up at the looming manor, almost picturesque in all of its errieness. Not knowing what she would fins, she pulled her fur trimmed hood over her head and mad her way solemnly over to the manor.

A/N: End of chapter 1! Yay! If I get at least 5 reviews, I would be so happy that the next 3 chapters would come all at once! That's how much I hope that you people like it! . REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!


	2. Author's Note 1

AUTHORS NOTE 1:

_I most sincerely apologize for not having taken the time out of my day to write to the faithful followers of this story. I really appreciate that so many are in favor of it, and I also apologize to those who do not particularly like my ideas. But I have come to the conclusion after reading over my previous work that my writing needs serious refinement, and that I am not satisfied with my old ideas. I'm not sure what I was thinking with changing Edward's hands. That is similar to giving "The Little Mermaid" legs right in the first scene of the story (Sorry for the comparison, horrible I know); it would completely render the story pointless. Bottom line: EDWARD SCISSORHANDS IS NOT EDWARD SCISSORHANDS WITHOUT __**SCISSOR HANDS!!!!**__ So I again apologize for my totally inexcusable mistake. Please enjoy the next installment of "It Never Snowed Until Now" : The Black Manor. RR please; I appreciate the advice._


	3. The Black Manor

Chapter 2: The Black Manor

A/N: _I know I haven't update in what seems like forever and a day, but I have reread my work and found a few of the 'nay'-sayers to be completely right. Due to their requests, nothing is changed about Edward's hands. And I guess she can have a boyfriend. But other than that, yes I AM changing the story of Edward Scissorhands because that is what FanFiction is about. If I were to just put it the way it was in the movie, well that would be like writing a REVIEW, not a STORY, wouldn't it? I'm not big on reviews. So instead of doing what would seem to me like just recapping the movie, I am doing a 360 turnabout with it, while incorporating some of my favorite movie parts. In conclusion, I want to appologize to those who find my views distasteful, and to assure my hopefully still faithful fans of this story that they will __not __be disappointed. _

In the cold, soft moonlight she silently struggled with her backpack up the craggy slopes of the mountain to the looming silhouette of the castle, but it wasn't the backpack that was the true burden: it was her mind. Her head beaded with sweat despite the frigid wind blasting the fur-trimmed hood off of her golden crown, sending her hair whipping wildly back and forth as the winds shifted unpredictably.

_She wishes she never had me._

_She wants me dead._

_She wanted to kill me herself._

The thoughts spun mercilessly through her head like a revolving door, not giving her mind a moment to argue. "So who loves me?" She called aloud to the wailing winds, which carried the cry with them on their journey away from the mountain. She felt lost to the world, forgotten without remorse. The last time she could remember being acknowledged without experiencing the malace of her mother was at the age of seven, back when her father was still home alot. She still heard from her father at least once a month, but she frequently thought it would just be better not to know him at all. It was too painful to think the only person who might love her was off somewhere in the world making big money without a care, and sending it to her alcoholic mother who was too piss drunk to spend it on anything other than her cheap beer and cigarrettes. It was a wonder they still had a roof over their heads for the time they did.

She could feel the steep incline becoming less difficult to climb; the jagged rocks under her feet smoothing over. The wind was dying off slightly, but before she knew it, she was standing on a flat plane, bending her neck at an impossible angle to stare past the vine-plastered gates to the towering spires of the mansion. The wind had suddenly died down completely, to the point that the only distinguishable sounds were her breathing and the crunching of the smooth pebbles and she shifted her weight onto her heels to get a better view. The eerie silence was unusual and unnerving. but in a sense peaceful. All at once she felt this mystifying calm settle over her like the blanket of snow that she wished for in countless dreams. Her breath came out in soft puffs like clouds, but the frequency of the clouds decreased as her breathing slowed to normal. The castle had fallen into an uncomprehensible state of decay, but its gleaming black stone still called her ever forth.

She walked hesitantly to the wrought iron gate before her: something that should have been mechanized long ago, for manually opening it was a perilous feat. She again pulled the pocket knife from her pocket, and began cutting with precision at the thick, ropy vines that twined around the main bars, holding them shut like a padlock. She briefly and rediculously wondered if the vines were simply decoration, made of steel. And if so, what force were they holding behind their glimmering green foliage? Her knife proved her inquiry wrong: they were indeed living plants, and dense ones at that. After what seemed like hours of hacking away with her pathetic little blade, the bars were free and the gates were penetrable. She struggled with grunts and groans, and with an inconcievable screech, a solitary, monstrous gate budged enought for her to slip through without her backpack. She slid through sideways, and after brushing off her white jacket, she reached back through the iron bars for the pack. Her muscles screamed in protest as she yanked it through the sliver of an opening from both the beating and the journey up the mountain. She was tired, hungry, and unbelievably sore, with a thumping migraine pulsing behind her eyes.

She glanced up from her feet and gasped until her lungs were swollen with air.

_This place..._

Her blood ran cold and her blue eyes bulged from their sockets as she stared at the topiary before her. The hedges were trimmed in lifelike shapes with masterful skill and precision. She had never seen a work of art more beautiful than the nature that stood sculpted before her. From the outside the mansion had seemed forboding and cold, but what she stared at then was a welcoming garden with pools of glistening water, spurting forth from flowing fountains and hedges in the shapes of animals and objects of all shapes and sizes but so precise in their detail that it seemed impossible for them to be actual shrubbery. A circular central garden sat directly in front of the great iron doors, from which sprung a massive shrub in the form of a hand, palm up towards the sky and fingers bent, as if cradling something precious. This was a great contrast to the leering gargoyles perched on the crumbling stone pedestals, glowering down from their bases as if angered at her unexpected intrusion.

She approached the shrubs, flexing the branches and gauging their strength. These hedges dwarfed the suburbian ones that she was used to, as if they were the heads of trees cut to look like figures rather than bushes. She again looked at the hand reaching to the heavens, then at the towering castle. It was dreadfully dark and she was afraid to explore the manor, for who knew what awaited her in the shadows and corners of the monstosity. she decided that if it's burly branches would support her small frame, she would nestle herself in the palm of that hand.

She carefully overstepped the ring of vibrantly colored flowers and onto the lush sprigs of grass that framed the hand, and set her heavy backpack next to its base. Lying it against the sturdy trunk of the oversized bush, she used it as a stepstool to climb onto it. It bent dangerously with her weight, and for a moment she feared that she would sink through the foliage, but she discovered that each of it's fingers had a thick, outward-stemming branch at its core. Clinging to the sturdy trunk that was the index finger of the hand, she lolled into a state that could just pass for sleep.

A/N:_This is the end of Chapter two, as if you didn't notice. I'm sorry it's not very interesting and that the details are absorbitent, but I promise that Edward comes into the next chapter right away. Thank you for bearing with me through my long break from and sorry again._


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